


maggie's secrets

by mm_nani



Category: Political RPF - US 20th c.
Genre: F/F, I don't know how to explain this, Time Travel, you're just going to have to take a risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 13:02:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12013308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm_nani/pseuds/mm_nani
Summary: Margaret Thatcher is 24 and trapped in an unhappy job as a chemist





	maggie's secrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blindbatalex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindbatalex/gifts).



> happy birthday. 
> 
> i almost died three times and your 'omg dying from cuteness is not a bad way to go nice!' message was so fake. I could feel your disappointment come out through my phone and punch me in the face. I was writing this monstrosity what else? 
> 
> also because I received no primer I just googled Thatcherism. dont blame me if it sounds dumb

‘Maggie’

 

Margaret Thatcher, a young woman of only 24, startles at the soft calling of her nickname, one that only her parents use and never outside her childhood home. The voice is hoarse but familiar and instead of alarming her, it makes her feel protected somehow. She remembers to be wary, knows that espionage in the plastics business is not uncommon and hastily rubs out the formula she’s been working on from the black board. She can figure it out tomorrow.

 

‘Who’s there?’ She calls out and as more time passes with the woman in the shadow, more misgivings about the situation arise, by now she’s contemplating weapons, the undiluted hydrochloric acid is too far away but the burner and matchsticks are just within reach, maybe she can turn on the pressurized gas.

 

‘Don’t turn on the pressurized gas, Maggie.’ The woman calls out and it’s the first time in her life that an impractical thought crosses her mind: a witch.

 

‘Maggie, you must stay calm. I’m here to lead you to your true path, I’m here from the future.’ The woman finally steps out and Margaret is shocked at how much it looks like she’s looking at a mirror, except-

 

‘I’m Margaret Thatcher, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and I’m here to convince you not to give up on politics.’

 

Margaret isn’t sure how to process, ‘I’m going crazy.’

 

‘Oh God, you’re not. You’re not hallucinating and you won’t really ever be sure of that until you make the journey yourself in the future. But either way, I’m here to tell you that you must not give up on politics.’

 

‘You know I’m no good with people.’

 

The older Thatcher bangs her hands on Margaret’s work table, she looks pained and perplexed and Margaret has a strong urge to wipe that expression of her face, ‘Oh Maggie, I remember when I thought politics was about pleasing people but it’s not and this is the only secret I will reveal to you today. Politics is about  _ controlling  _ people.’

 

Margaret gasps, it all clicks into place for a moment, her path seems so clear when she realizes that she doesn’t need support but  _ pawns _ .

 

‘You can’t lie to yourself Maggie,’ the nickname melts her heart and the older Thatcher takes her hands in hers, clutching gentle but firm. Will she really grow up to have an authoritative grip like that? Something warm settles in the base of her belly at the thought.

 

‘The first step is to admit that chemistry isn’t your true calling. All this nonsense with plastic, peasant’s work.’

 

Margaret nods, can’t help it, her heart is bare to this woman and there is suddenly no doubt that this is her, no one would know her this well, no one would be able to call her so tenderly, understand that she’s positively yearning for politics, for _ control. _

 

She feels feverish against the palm against her cheeks, the sharp wrinkles in the face in front her positively regal, she can imagine the lifetime of frowning that’s led to their existence. But the older Thatcher only looks tender if not a little somber.

 

‘Tell me your deepest desire Maggie.’ The older Thatcher whispers and the words cause a warm breath to brush across her cheeks, she smells like red wine and a sensible cologne and Margaret’s knees are weak from the sheer power in the lithe frame in front of her.

 

‘Tell me.’ The older Thatcher insists and Margaret gives in, ‘deregulation.’ she whispers and it’s like a huge pressure is lifted off her chest, hiding herself around all these liberal colleagues of hers. Her knees finally buckles and the older Thatcher is there to catch her, her hands solid and perfect against her back, ‘I want free market, privatize national markets and I want to  _ crush  _ those good for nothing leeches, those trade unions.’ Once she starts, it’s so hard to stop but no one is trying to stop her. The older Thatcher’s eyes are watering, she looks so proud and Margaret is  _ so relieved.  _

 

The older Thatcher pulls her gently so their foreheads are together and Margaret wants to laugh loudly, like a madwoman, she’s just so  _ happy.  _ It’s so irrational.

 

‘Remember this feeling Margaret,’ Thatcher whispers, ‘this is what will keep you going, this is what will pull you through all the hardships, all the criticisms.’

 

‘Will I really become you? Will I really become this magnificent.’

 

‘And  _ more _ . Margaret you don’t even know the things you achieve. Just always follow your heart.’ Margaret’s heart is racing, it doesn’t seems like it will be able to lead her anywhere but she will believe in her older self over everything else. She’s so giddy, she would follow this woman off a roof in this instant.

 

‘I must go now Margaret.’ The older Thatcher whispers and Margaret has to stop herself from exclaiming her disappointment but she can’t stop how her grip tightens around Thatcher’s waist.

 

‘Don’t leave me.’ She says and Thatcher sighs, ‘oh Maggie, you’re so magnificent already. I want to tell you another secret, it will make those frustrating nights so much better.’

 

And Margaret is ready, ready to receive every advice she can get.

 

Thatcher takes her hand and slides them both down her waist, she lets go when they reach mid thigh and then Thatcher’s fingers rise gently until it’s travelling up her skirt and Margaret is already about to push the hand away but she realizes in time that this isn’t some strange man, it’s  _ her. _

 

The fingers caresses her belly for just one second before travelling into her pants and then-

 

Margaret can’t help the moan that escapes her.

 

‘What-what are you doing?’ But Thatcher is retracting even as she asks and Margaret wishes she’d said ‘don’t stop’ instead.

 

‘Oh Maggie I’m telling you the secrets of a woman’s pleasure.’ Thatcher says a soft smile playing on her lips, ‘use it generously.’

 

And then she’s gone, Margaret realizes amidst her disappointment that the older Thatcher had pressed a slip of paper in her hands before leaving:

 

_ one more secret: trust the man in the blue box _

**Author's Note:**

> things one does for love. blame everything on alex


End file.
